(Photos by Bald Punk – Peck Slip/South Street)

My lady friend(LF) called the psychic Carrie Robbins, and I got on the phone and told her about the three ghosts that we saw in a bar down by South Street. Of the four of us, I saw them the clearest and could swear that their images clung to three patrons, making them seem like ghostly people.

At the time of the call, two days had passed since we saw the ghosts, and I couldn’t get their voices out of my head. Carrie said there was only one person that could help me. She was the woman who had magically appeared to me when I had problems with a sprite from the Phantom Hills of Mannahatta.

“She’s a seer, right?” I asked.

“Mona is a seer, psychic, sorcerer, telepath, she is many things,” Carrie said with a touch of gusto, as if she was introducing the woman to an audience. “Some say Mona is the most powerful woman in NYC. Make sure to be respectful in her presence . . . Her shop is on Prince Street . . . She’ll know you’re coming, and if she chooses to see you, she will invite you inside.”

Sure enough as we made our way along Prince Street looking for her shop, a plate-glass door opened ahead of us and a female called out. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The pizza and Chinese delivery guys(aka num and nuts) stopped. My LF slowed. I went right inside. I wanted the voices out of my head.

To my surprise, it was a shop that sold handmade jewelry. On the walls were avant-garde paintings. Some of the jewelry was hung from free standing sculptures. There were a few patrons and a young sales woman behind a glass counter. She pointed for us to go through a beaded-door-curtain to the rear of the store.

We went down a dim hall and passed two closed doors. We headed toward a room lit with a soft, welcoming glow.

“In the back, yes,” came the voice who moments ago had somehow managed to call out to us on the sidewalk.

In the room, a woman sat in a high-backed chair.

“Mona?” my LF asked and the woman nodded.

With gray hair, pudgy cheeks, and a gentle smile, Mona looked like a sweet old woman. But her eyes seemed to “pull me asunder.” I can’t say how, except that she had an intense stare that made me feel different–like my life was compacted into only a few events. I wasn’t a bundle of crazy thoughts and desires. I was singular. I was my soul. It sounds crazy, but that was what I was thinking . . .

The room was a blur of green. Yet I didn’t really look around. I didn’t want to take my eyes off Mona.

There were two floor-standing lamps situated behind the seer. Four high-backed, green-cushioned chairs were spread around her. She opened her hand for us to sit.

At our knees was a circular table, draped with a green tablecloth that touched the floor. An oblong crystal was in the center. It gave off a diffused glow.

Up close, I saw that Mona had a pale-yellow nimbus about her head. Even if you don’t normally see such things, I think you would have witnessed hers.

My LF and num and nuts were smiling in amazement. I had trepidations, though was placid–if that makes any sense. I was my soul . . .

There were no introductions. Mona went right to business. She rubbed the tips of her right fingers into her left palm, spoke under her breath and then tossed some colored-speckles into the air. And just like that I realized a new clarity. The ghostly voices whom I had been trying to suppress, were gone from my head. It was as if my ears had been clogged with water that suddenly spilled out.

“Next time you hear the voices, ignore them,” Mona said, with a small smile and warm light in her eyes, as if she knew my history.

“Ignore stuff, by now I should have my PhD in that,” I said. “But the first time these ghosts came to me was when I was asleep. How do I ignore a dream?”

“Turn over,” she said and chuckled along with my LF and num and nuts. For some reason, num and nuts didn’t look as whacked out in Mona’s presence. It was as if for a short time, she had changed them for the better. I dunno. I can’t describe it, except to say looking at them didn’t make my eyes go bonkers.

I smirked, though it was in a respectful manner. “Could I ask you–the ghostly voices I had heard in my dream, I traced them to three guys in a bar down by South Street. And it seemed like the ghosts had possessed the men in some way. The figures of the ghosts were superimposed over the three men.”

Mona sighed.

“Yeah, that was so odd,” my LF added.

“Most ghosts want nothing to do with people, though there are a few that like to cling because of the heart and vocal vibrations,” Mona said. “It means nothing.”

“So a ghost could be clinging to us right now, and we wouldn’t notice it,” my LF said.

Num and nuts both pushed back in their chairs. Their brows rose high. It seemed like their lashes were at the top of their foreheads.

“Ghosts are harmless vibrations of energy,” Mona said. “Most people can’t see them, and as long as they are not demonic, one need not worry. I have the feeling the three men at the bar weren’t aware of the spirits.”

I was about to say how I was hawking the men, yet Mona gestured with her index finger. Our time was up. We stood and I reached for my wallet.

She waved for me to put the wallet away and said, ”Come to me again if there is a problem.”

While I was making my way out of the shop, I heard whispering voices in the backroom. I was certain it was the three ghosts from South Street. I tensed, afraid that they were coming after me. I thought that I would never get rid of them.

Then I heard Mona make what sounded like a seductive plea, “Stay with me here. I can help you, too.”

—

Here are all the posts in this series: Episode Twenty-Two – November/December 2009

That Damned South Street!

Ghosts of South Street

The Strange Case of Ghostly People on South Street

Here are my STORIES and PHOTOS